


roses are red

by dreamember



Series: prompt table [8]
Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, M/M, literal fluff, summer ended up just writing herself into this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-28 12:47:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5091320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamember/pseuds/dreamember
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seth’s got a secret admirer with a real eye for flower arranging.</p><p>Word: "flower"</p>
            </blockquote>





	roses are red

**Author's Note:**

> I wish I could get my works out at a quicker rate, but alas I'm a slow editor, and even slower writer. I've also noticed I very much have a thing about writing in Seth's POV.

“Alright, seriously, which one of you is it? I’ve spent the whole weekend thinking about it and you’re the only ones it could be.”

“What do you mean?”

“You _know_ what I mean. The flowers. So which one of you is sending them?”

“Oh, you mean the flowers from your _secret admirer_?”

Seth groans and scrubs his face with a hand. The boxes themselves are nothing unusual. Each morning, flowers are delivered to the shop in boxes, ready to be arranged. What’s got Seth so… frustrated, in a sense, is that for the past couple of weeks the shop’s usual order has been accompanied by a flower arrangement and an anonymous note attached.

A flower arrangement and an anonymous note _for Seth_.

He didn’t think anything of it at first, he just thought there’d been an accident in the order, which then progressed to the belief that someone was pranking him. But then it happened again, and again, and _again_. When all of this excitement (he uses the word loosely, but honestly he doesn’t know _how_ he feels about it) had first started, Summer had been on holiday. So, obviously, when she’d found the flowers she had squealed delightedly and rushed into the room to thrust the flowers into his face, to point excitedly at the note attached. _‘To Seth, from ????’_. The note was written the same unfamiliar, yet now familiar, messy scrawl.

The arrangement and note is now a daily occurrence, a part of the daily routine, and Seth still believes it’s a joke that his co-workers are playing on him for some reason. He’s had enough time to consider all the possibilities – the workers at the shop's flower supplier, the corner shop down the road that buys flowers from the same supplier – but after sitting down with both Summer and Layla, it was agreed that none of the names mentioned were likely to be Seth’s so-called _‘secret admirer’_. So who else could it be? His co-workers. It’s the only explanation he’s got, and he ignores their insistence that it isn’t them.

The tell-tale sound of a bell ringing causes Seth to turn around. Try as he might, he can’t quite stop the smile from breaking out on his face as he realises it’s his favourite time of the day – delivery time. Or, more specifically, the time when Dean Ambrose walks through the door. Blonde hair is spilling out from under his black hat much the same way his muscular arms are spilling out from under the sleeves of his plain, white t-shirt. Seth has to bite his lip before he makes a fool of himself.

“Hey Dean.”

“Hey," Dean smiles. It's been _months_ , and it still takes his breath away every time he catches a glimpse of those damn dimples, "you on your own today?”

“I wish,” Seth sighs. He gestures towards the backroom, “Summer’s in the back. TJ was supposed to be here too, but there was some cat-related crisis or whatever so he’s not coming in today.”

Summer, having heard her name, emerges from the darkened room smiling brightly, “hey Dean!”

Dean offers her a curt nod and a smile as he pushes the box onto the counter, “there a big event coming up or something? You’ve got more boxes than usual today.”

“Yeah, we’ve got two weddings on top of the other orders this weekend, figured we’d get started so we don’t fall behind. I’ll come give you a hand with those boxes. Just leave them by the door to the store room, we'll sort them away later" Dean nods, moving the box to the door as Seth shrugs his jacket on and heads out to the van.

Their shop is apparently the last on the list today. Pushed up against the farthest wall are the shops’ boxes. With a groan, Seth climbs in and crawls to the back, shuffling across on his knees, thankful that he decided against wearing his brand new jeans today. As his fingers finally graze the first box, sudden voice startles him.

“You alright back there?” Seth yelps. It’s Dean, and it’s also Dean laughing at him as he startles at the sudden voice and crashes his head against the van in his panicked attempts to turn around. With a hand held to his head, he frowns at the man who has his head tipped back, unable to halt the flow of laughter. Try as he might, Seth just can’t be too mad for too long. Especially not when his brain registers the carefree laughter that he hasn’t heard from the other man before.

He’s known Dean for three months now, give or take a few weeks. They only interact when Dean makes his daily deliveries, so their relationship has taken longer to build, but Seth feels they’re at least friends in some capacity. Despite this, Dean’s very reserved. He has one hell of a poker face, and more often than not, Seth finds it almost impossible to figure out what the other man is thinking. He considers himself lucky to get a smile as often as he does. But here Dean is, laughing unreservedly, dimples out in full force, and Seth swears his heart flips.

The throbbing in his head, though, draws his mind back to the real issue at hand, “I’m glad you found that so funny. My head kills now.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Dean apologises, holding up placating hands, “I didn’t expect you to jump like _that_ , honestly,” Seth watches as Dean slides into the back of the van, shuffling until he’s positioned next to Seth, “your head alright though? Don’t need checking out?” Before he’s able to answer, Dean is shuffling even closer, gliding his fingers through Seth’s hair in some form of assessment. Seth gasps at the feeling and Dean pulls his hand away, but keeps his body just as close, “shit, sorry, that hurt?”

“A bit.” He concedes. It didn’t hurt, but he’s too embarrassed to say ‘ _no, I just really like feeling your hands on me’._ He doesn’t think that’d go down well, or, not as well as he’d like to believe. He’s presumed before, simply blurted out and acted on what’s on his mind, whether that’s just feelings or a strange and brief urge to kiss someone. It’s the kind of thing that’s formed the long line of broken friendships. He doesn’t want that to happen with Dean. Especially not when he’d still have to see the other man every morning of every day. He enjoys Dean’s company far too much to ever risk losing him completely.

“If you start feeling weird, like, headaches and stuff, just call me and I’ll run you to the doctors and get you checked out. Don’t want you getting concussion or anything.”

It’s the perfect opportunity. He could just ask Dean for his number and not even have to worry about it coming across inappropriately. His heart is tripping over itself in excitable nerves as he takes a breath and-

“There you are!” And typically, Summer decides _this_ is the moment to interrupt. In all honesty, he isn’t even surprised. He should have anticipated it. He loves her like the sister he never had, but she has a real knack for turning up when she shouldn’t, and then being conspicuously absent when she’s needed. No doubt, if the conversation had been heading south into dangerously awkward territory, she’d still be inside. He’d put money on it, “I thought I’d lost you both.”

“Yeah, Seth bumped his head so I wanted to check on him.”

“Oh, you alright?”

Seth waves her off, “yeah nothing a pain killer can’t handle.”

With a smile, Summer nods her head and turns to walk back into the shop, leaving Seth and Dean alone in the back of the van. His stomach clenches as Dean’s focus slides back onto him, a gasp dying somewhere in his throat. Dean’s gazes are always intense, but this feels. Feels like Dean’s analysing him, like he’s under observation, and he quickly scrambles to move the first box inside.

He avoids Dean’s gaze as they finish unloading the van.

As Seth sets the final box on the counter, he can hear Summer huffing and growling at the half-completed arrangement in front of her. It doesn’t surprise him, she’s an extreme perfectionist when it comes to anything in life – her hair, her makeup, even the presentation of her food, but _especially_ her arrangements. Seth’s seen her spend hours designing them for upcoming orders weeks before they even need to be finished, as well as spend hours on the fine details afterwards.

Dean, however, is still a newcomer to the world of Summer and her scrupulous nature.

“Everything ok there?”

She huffs again, pushing back at her hair before carelessly throwing it into a ponytail. She _must_ be stressed, “I can’t get this right. I had it all planned out but it doesn’t look how I thought it would and I need ten identical ones by closing and- what are you doing?”

Seth watches, partly in horror but partly also in amazement and curiosity, as Dean dares to approach the arrangement and shuffle a handful of pink roses. He then moves to one of the boxes with confidence, letting out a pleased sound as he retreats with a handful of tall, purple liatrises. Had he himself not been in a state of wonder and surprise, he probably would have taken a photo of Summer’s face as Dean stepped back with a proud smile on his.

Summer, eventually, shakes herself from her state of astonishment enough to comment, “thanks. Wow. Wouldn’t have thought you’d have an eye for flower arranging.”

“You’d be surprised what I’m into. I’m not all that meets the eye, ya know?” Dean shrugs, moving towards the door, “oh, and you might wanna check the box of carnations.”

“Why?” Seth hesitantly asks. Dean is now leaning against the doorframe, smiling brightly. In his peripheral vision, he can see Summer looking through the boxes for the one that has mysteriously been singled out. The other man opens his mouth, his eyes brighter than Seth can ever remember, but the shop is filled with the sound of Summer’s excited squeal. There’s heels quickly clicking across the shop floor and then the tell-tale rustle of wrapping paper as the daily arrangement is thrust into his face. He looks up at Dean, who seems slightly and uncharacteristically sheepish, betraying his confident posture, “you knew about these? Do you know who’s sending me them?”

Something in Dean’s face falls, making Seth’s stomach clench, but before Seth can dwell on the reaction Dean gathers himself and shrugs again, “might do. I think he left a card in there, actually.”

He has to shake off Summer’s prying hands to hunt for the card himself. It’s not unusual, there’s always a card. But this one has a mobile number and… Dean’s name. He makes an attempt to say something, but all that he can muster through his surprise is a weak and choked noise. This can’t be… Dean can’t _actually_ be…

His head snaps up, faster than he even intended, but in a way he’s thankful as he’s able to catch a small glimpse of Dean, chewing on his thumbnail and nervousness written plainly on his face. The sight is fleeting, and once Dean realises that Seth’s eyes are back on him, he adjusts himself, slipping back into familiar confidence. But now he’s gotten a sliver of a glimpse behind those confident walls, Seth wants to see else is hiding behind them.

“So… I gotta head off. But, if you wanna call me, then that’s my number. Figured it’d put it out there or whatever… before I regret it. You’re a good looking guy and sooner or later you’ll be snapped up so... see you tomorrow.”

Dean exits the shop, but not before leaving Seth with a parting gift of a wink that leaves him all kinds of flustered. If Dean can get him like that while clearly being slightly apprehensive, Seth dreads to imagine how he’d imagine it if Dean ever stepped up a gear in the flirting game. But, as he admires the flowers in front of him, all he knows is that he’s desperate to find out.


End file.
